


Game of Moans

by MangaFreak15



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Begging, Consensual Sex, Consent is Sexy, Hair-pulling, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Light Bondage, Light Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24616189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangaFreak15/pseuds/MangaFreak15
Summary: “No one else is here right now,” he murmurs, rubbing his fingers across the fabric, watching Ichigo stare at him with his lips parted. A pink tongue flashes out, leaving a shiny trail over his lips that Kisuke wants to bite until they are red and bruised and moaning. He continues, “You are on break from school, so I know you have quite a sum of free time. What do you say, Kurosaki-san? Would you like me to…playwith you?”Urahara Kisuke is many things, but he is first and foremost a scientist. He likes to take things apart to see what makes them tick. Taking Ichigo apart is no different, even if it is in less of a mad-scientist way and more of a push-every-button-and-find-every-kink way.
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Comments: 8
Kudos: 268





	Game of Moans

**Author's Note:**

> I literally have no idea if this is good porn or not, it's been about 8, maybe 9 years since I wrote anything super explicit. Just gonna yeet this into the void and hope for the best. No underage here, Ichigo is 19.
> 
>  **Edited 6/14:** Added about ~1400 words for better readability and more steaminess ;)

“I have a proposition, Kurosaki-san.”

Kisuke lays several objects on the bed for Ichigo’s perusal, all of them hand-made in his laboratory within the last three days. Ichigo looks at each one with a growing hunger, evidenced by the delightful pink blush creeping over his cheeks and tinting the tips of his ears bright red. He swallows hard and tears his gaze away from the items to meet the smug smirk on Kisuke’s handsome face.

“What kind of proposition?” he asks hoarsely, the black of his pupils nearly swallowing his irises with lust.

The blonde kneels before him, taking the first object in hand and dangling it in front of Ichigo’s face with a devilish grin. “No one else is here right now,” he murmurs, rubbing his fingers across the fabric, watching Ichigo stare at him with his lips parted. A pink tongue flashes out, leaving a shiny trail over his lips that Kisuke wants to _bite_ until they are red and bruised and moaning. He continues, “You are on break from school, so I know you have quite a sum of free time. What do you say, Kurosaki-san? Would you like me to… _play_ with you?”

Ichigo utters _‘yes’_ so fast that he doesn’t even remember saying it. Kisuke laughs softly at the expected answer and leans forward to whisper two words into the young man’s ear, his warm breath flowing past Ichigo’s face and making him shudder with anticipation, “Good boy.”

He hears Ichigo’s breath hitch and grow ragged at the praise, one of his hands shooting up to snatch the black blindfold out of Kisuke’s grip. He ties it over his eyes himself, over eager, nearly shaking, expecting to have a _great_ time tonight, and boy, Kisuke will be trying his hardest to deliver on that and then some. A quick glance down shows that Ichigo is _very_ interested in ‘playing’ with Kisuke; he’s already half-hard in his jeans and still growing, which makes his pants extremely tight and uncomfortable around his narrow hips.

“My, my, someone’s eager,” Kisuke croons, slowly— _very slowly—_ dragging the tips of his fingers down the side of Ichigo’s neck, lightly tracing over his prominent collarbones and over his sternum. The orange-haired man is already shivering at his touch, his sense of touch amplified by the lack of sight. Behind the blindfold, he can only hear Kisuke’s voice, smell Kisuke’s familiar sandalwood and ink scent, feel Kisuke’s bold touch, and taste Kisuke’s skin if he so chooses. The scientist hasn’t even gotten to the good part yet and Ichigo is already _drowning._ Kisuke pulls back and commands, “Take your shirt off.”

A spark, a thrill, races down Ichigo’s spine upon hearing the scientist give him a directive.

(Normally he isn’t one to take orders, but Kisuke’s authoritative voice is so fucking hot that it should be illegal. Ichigo wants to take it and keep it to himself, no one else. He wants to take it all, everything that Kisuke will give him, take it and treasure it and guard it with all the possessive jealousy of a dragon. This man, this Shinigami, who can have anyone he wants, who chose _Ichigo_ in the end—Ichigo will give him as good as he’s got. And if that means submitting himself to Kisuke’s more… adventurous whims in bed, well, he does like to try new things. Kisuke always seems to drag some new kink out of him every time.)

Ichigo tosses his shirt somewhere away from them, not caring one bit where it lands. Kisuke takes a moment to admire the tanned, bare skin now available for him to see, to touch, to lick and kiss and mark until Ichigo is _his_ in every way that counts. He watches as Ichigo’s chest expands and contracts with each breath, the way his ripped stomach heaves, the tiniest hint of gooseflesh rippling up his arms at the exposure to the cool air of the Shouten. Kisuke smiles, stroking his fingers down the length of Ichigo’s ribs, counting the faint silvery scars on his skin, feeling every spasm and muscle twitch as Ichigo tries to keep himself still. “You are beautiful, Kurosaki-san,” he exhales over Ichigo’s belly, pressing his lips to the curve of the man’s hip bone just above the waistband of his dark-blue jeans, reveling in the way Ichigo melts underneath him.

“Get on with it already, Urahara-san,” Ichigo hisses through his teeth, blindly reaching out to spread his hands across Kisuke’s chest, parting the folds of his green samue to access the smooth flesh beneath. Kisuke tuts, bats his wandering hands away, and picks up the second item.

“Now, now, Kurosaki-san, I think you need a lesson in patience,” he chides, grabbing Ichigo’s wrists and securing them together above his head, tying the reinforced cloth to the nearest bedpost. “Be good and stay there.”

Ichigo _whimpers_ at the command, giving only the barest struggle against his restraints before he goes limp and pliant on the bed. Kisuke leans down to praise him again, which earns him another gasp and half a moan drifting from that sinful mouth, a mouth that he has not yet claimed tonight. He crushes his lips against Ichigo’s, the other man opening wide for him without needing to be told. Kisuke drinks him in like a man dying of thirst, seeking him out, tongue delving, swallowing the noises that escape him as the scientist simultaneously pinches one of the dusky nipples on Ichigo’s chest, peaking from the cool air. With his other hand, he rubs the right nub in slow circles, alternating between the rough pinch-and-pull on one and the torturous massage on the other. Ichigo cries out against his mouth, grinding desperately against him, jeans chafing at his erection.

He breaks away, voice wrecked with lust and arousal, and pants, “Urahara-san—” Oh, isn’t that a lovely sound, “I—I need—”

Kisuke draws his hands away, sitting back in satisfaction as Ichigo whines from the loss. “What’s the magic word, Kurosaki-san?” he hums.

The nineteen year-old huffs, then bites out a quiet “please.”

“Louder, Kurosaki-san.”

“Please, Urahara-san.”

“Please what?”

Ichigo groans in frustration, once again lifting his hips to chase after that elusive friction. His cock is so hard that it feels like his jeans are strangling it, and he wants Kisuke to give him some relief _now._ He tugs on the restraints a bit before giving up. _“Please_ get on with it and _fuck me until I cry!”_ he begs, arching up off the bed in a frantic bid to get Kisuke’s hands back on him.

The blonde happily strokes Ichigo’s hair as he sags back into the sheets, heaving. “Maybe I will, since you make such a _compelling_ case,” he indulges the younger man, reaching for the front of Ichigo’s jeans. His former student sighs audibly when his fly is finally unzipped, exposing the bulge straining wetly against the fabric of his sheer white underwater, the ruddy red tip peeking just slightly over the top. Kisuke laughs when he sees it. “Aren’t you a naughty one, Kurosaki-san! Wearing lingerie just for little old me? I’m flattered,” he teases, hooking a single finger under the waistband of the lacy little number that sits snugly around Ichigo’s sharp hips, watching it snap back against tan skin.

Ichigo blushes hotly, the crimson color of his cheeks a lovely contrast to the black blindfold over his eyes. “Well, is it working?” he asks, smirking.

Oh, it’s working alright. Kisuke is already undoing the ties on his samue, briefly brushing his knuckles over his own burgeoning arousal, relishing in the thrum of pleasure that sweeps through him at the touch. “I suppose it is,” he agrees mildly, taking himself out of his fundoshi and giving himself a long stroke. “But I do believe that you are talking far too much. I have far better uses for that pretty little mouth of yours.”

_“You’re_ one to talk—” Ichigo starts, only to shut up when Kisuke presses a long finger over his kiss-bruised lips.

“Now what did I just say, Kurosaki-san?” he sighs. He picks up the third object. “Before we move on, do you remember your safe word?”

“Strawberry,” Ichigo replies immediately.

Kisuke tilts his chin up and gives him a kiss. “Very good,” he says, smiling to himself as the younger man’s cock twitches happily at the praise and a bit of precome spurts out of the tip, further staining his lacy underwear. “Lift your hips for me.” Ichigo does, helpfully raising one left after the other so that Kisuke can slide the offending jeans and that sinfully damp scrap of cloth right off. His cock is flushed red and fully hard, curving up towards his stomach, bobbing gently as Ichigo once again attempts to get some much needed friction for his poor, neglected dick.

“Patience,” Kisuke reminds him. “Only good boys get rewarded. Are you a good boy, Kurosaki-san?”

Ichigo groans helplessly, but stops. Kisuke pats him on the thigh, then twists the cap off of the jar of homemade lubricant that he’s holding. He scoops out a generous amount and smears it across his fingers. “Spread your legs,” he orders, watching in satisfaction as the orange-haired man’s legs instantly fall open to expose everything to Kisuke’s hungry gaze. The scarlet blush suffusing Ichigo’s face seems to be a permanent stain at this point, and he tries to turn his face into his arm to hide it.

The blonde will be having none of that now. “Do you want this, Kurosaki-san?” he murmurs, lightly skimming over his partner’s rim, pressing at it, but never pushing his fingers in. He lifts one of Ichigo’s legs with his other hand, dropping little butterfly kisses on the soft flesh of his inner thighs as he continues to tease the fluttering hole, driving Ichigo mad with desire.

The orange-haired man lifts his head away from the crook of his arm, breathlessly moaning, _“Yes.”_

Kisuke hums, “Well now, I suppose I did say that good boys get rewarded.” He drops Ichigo’s leg back down on the bed, his hand going to Ichigo’s hip instead, as his slick fingers paw at his scrotum, going back and forth between fondling Ichigo’s balls and sliding around the rim, leaving a shiny trail over his perineum. All the while, a chorus of lewd noises falls out of the nineteen year-old’s mouth, little ‘please’s interspersed between his moans. Then Kisuke drives one slick finger into Ichigo’s entrance, all the way up to the knuckle.

Ichigo gasps at the burn of pain and pleasure that accompanies the intrusion, his body clenching tightly around the long finger, spasming. He groans and mutters something that could be a “yes” or “more.” He starts rolling his hips down, trying to fuck himself on Kisuke’s fingers, but at the same time wanting _more._ The shopkeeper chuckles at his enthusiasm and twists his finger in the tight passage, stroking at his inner walls. He adds a second one a moment later, scissoring them to stretch the passage out in preparation for something bigger. Ichigo sobs and begins to rock harder against him, his neglected cock slapping against his stomach with every motion and leaving wet smears of fluid on his bare skin. Kisuke has half a mind to lean down and take just the tip of Ichigo’s erection between his lips, not sucking, just teasing him with tiny flicks of his tongue against the leaking slit, sending Ichigo spiralling to new heights of pleasure.

_“Please,_ Urahara, _please,”_ he cries, entirely foregoing the honorific. Kisuke complies, wiggling a third finger into him, curling the tips to try to find that sweet spot that will have Ichigo come apart beautifully in front of him. He pulls his mouth off of his lover’s cock, leaning forward to give Ichigo a single, long lick from the base to the tip, holding him down with one hand as the younger man tries to buck his hips up.

Kisuke knows he’s found the spot as soon as Ichigo’s mouth falls open and a loud half-moan, half-whimper flies out from his throat, more precum spurting out of his dick and dripping down the length. He memorizes the exact angle and position that his fingers are at, then abruptly withdraws. Ichigo thrusts helplessly into the air, feeling cold and empty without Kisuke’s mouth on his cock and Kisuke’s fingers in his ass.

_“Kisuke,”_ he growls, his voice rough and wrecked from moaning. The way he says Kisuke’s name—his given name, how bold!—makes Kisuke’s blood heat up something fierce, and it takes a lot of discipline not to grab his former student by the hips and slam himself home. He shakes his head to clear the inviting images that his mind conjures up at that thought, and dips his fingers back into the jar of lubricant so that he can oil up the next object: a wonderfully pink dildo, made by yours-truly to the exact specifications of his own aroused cock, but modified with a special reiatsu battery and a three-speed vibration setting with a cord extending up to three feet to the remote. It also comes with an automatic thrusting motion that initiates when it’s turned on—pun completely intended.

“Now, now, Kurosaki-san, we’re not done playing yet,” Kisuke says cheerfully, pushing the wet tip of the dildo against Ichigo’s loosened hole. “Be a dear and let an old man have his fun, will you?”

Ichigo chokes on a laugh, “Yeah right, you’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

“Who knows?” Kisuke slides the dildo in torturously slow, letting Ichigo feel it fill him up, inch by inch. The orange-haired man inhales, forcing himself to relax, letting his legs fall open further for ease of access. He tugs uselessly at the bindings, wishing he could touch Kisuke and run his hands over the scientist’s smooth skin. He clenches down on the toy, exhales through the sharp sting of pain as he adjusts to an intrusion that’s far larger than three fingers.

Kisuke nudges the tip of the dildo right up against Ichigo’s prostate and leaves it there. He grabs the last object off the bed. “Remember, if it gets too intense and you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell me and I’ll stop it immediately,” the blonde repeats, maneuvering the silver cock ring over Ichigo’s erection. He wiggles it down so that it sits prettily around the thick base of his cock.

“I will, I promise,” Ichigo says, fidgeting impatiently on the bed. “Now can we please get on with the program? I feel like I’ll die of old age before you get to the point.” Kisuke chuckles.

“As you wish, Kurosaki-san,” he sings, scooting back on the bed so that he can watch Ichigo fall apart. He flings off his own clothing so that he can fully appreciate the experience of seeing Ichigo come undone with _his_ creations. He loosely grips himself with one hand, slick with lube, and flicks the switch to the lowest setting with his other hand.

The reaction is instantaneous—Ichigo arches up wildly off the bed with an ecstatic cry, thrashing against the cloth binding his wrists to the bedpost. It’s a lovely sight to behold. Kisuke jerks himself slowly, eyes fixed on the way that Ichigo writhes against the sheets, loud moans and little whimpers spilling from his throat without abandon. Pearly fluid gushes from his cock, dripping all over his belly.

Kisuke dials it up to the second level, and Ichigo practically _sobs_ out loud as his prostate is mercilessly abused, by both the short, sharp thrusts and the heady vibration of the dildo against his sweet spot, making him see stars with each blinding flash of white-hot pleasure burning through his nerves.

“Unngh—aahh—I c-can’t t-take—hnnn, ah, K— _Kisuke!”_ Ichigo screams his name as he reaches his peak, only to let out a pained whine as his release is denied by the cock ring around the base of his dick. His sack rests heavy and swollen with seed underneath, begging to be toyed with and fondled.

“What’s the magic word, Kurosaki-san?” the blonde asks breathlessly, thumbing over his slit, smearing precum over the tip.

Ichigo wriggles on the bed, oversensitivity starting to overtake him as he teeters on the thin line between pleasure and pain.

“P-please…” he pants, sweat beading on his forehead, “please let me come!”

Close, but not good enough. Kisuke abandons his own dick to crawl over to his former student. Ichigo gasps when Kisuke violently fists his hair, hissing into his ear, “Tell me who you belong to.”

“Y-you…”

Kisuke yanks on his hair, pulling his head up. “I can’t hear you, Kurosaki-san.”

“You!”

“Say it louder, Kurosaki-san. I want to hear you _scream._ Tell me _who you belong to!”_

Now on the verge of being in more pain than pleasure from the continued orgasm denial, with the additional rough treatment to his scalp, the toy still buzzing with each thrust right against his prostate and setting off bright starbursts behind his eyes, Ichigo yells it to the world, “You! I belong to you and _only_ you, Urahara Kisuke! Now _let me come!”_

The blonde purrs at the response, viciously satisfied. He releases Ichigo’s hair and takes off the cock ring, drowning Ichigo in a waterfall of praise, “You are so good, Kurosaki-san, so beautiful, so perfect, and all mine. You are so strong and lovely and I want to see the face you make when you come for _me—”_

The moment the ring is off, Ichigo practically bends his spine in half as he arches off the bed with a scream, his orgasm ripping through him with all the force of a bullet train, a mangled version of Kisuke's name rolling off his tongue and vanishing into the air. Thick ropes of cum splatter all the way up his chest, some landing on his belly and his thighs and the rest falling somewhere on the sheets. Ichigo shudders as his climax works its way through him, then sags bonelessly back on the bed, breathing heavily. Kisuke leans over to switch the vibrating dildo off, extremely pleased with the performance of its first trial run.

The scientist unties Ichigo from the bedpost and gently massages his wrists where the younger man had pulled at the restraints too hard, leaving red markings on his skin. He pulls the blindfold up, smiling as Ichigo lazily lolls his head towards him, looking completely blissed-out. His half-lidded gaze falls on Kisuke’s cock, still rock hard and leaking against his stomach.

“You haven’t…” he gestures at Kisuke’s crotch.

The blonde smiles softly. “I was more concerned about you,” he says, dropping the bindings and the blindfold off the edge of the bed and on to the floor. He carefully removes the toy from Ichigo’s ass, who twitches as the device’s plastic edges brush past his sensitive nerves. Kisuke wipes it on the sheets and sets it aside, making a note to properly clean it later. “Well, judging by the state of things, this experience was quite enjoyable for you. I suppose you would be partial to doing this again?”

“Partial?” Ichigo laughs, sitting up. “Kisuke, sometimes I don’t think you understand how amazing your ideas are. I am _absolutely_ all for doing that again. Not now, obviously, but definitely another time.” Excellent, that’s exactly what Kisuke wants to hear. If he hadn’t already been fully aroused by now, those words would have him shooting hard in a heartbeat. Ichigo continues, eyeing the shopkeeper slyly, “Besides, you haven’t made good on your word.”

“Oh?” Kisuke hums, humoring him.

“I told you to fuck me until I cried, didn’t I?”

“Now when did i ever promise such a thing?” Kisuke chuckles, a warm and throaty sound that makes Ichigo’s softened cock twitch again in interest. “Ah, to be young again.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “You really are an old man,” he mutters, reversing their positions so that Kisuke is the one lounging back against the pillows. “C’mon, let me take care of you this time.”

“Returning the favor, are we, Kurosaki-san? Well, you did let me have my fun,” the scruffy blonde murmurs, languidly stroking himself until Ichigo pulls hands away.

He takes his lover’s cock in one hand, idly tracing the thick vein that runs just beneath the heated flesh. “You know, you really should call me Ichigo,” he says huskily, before taking the head into his mouth.

Kisuke lets out a noise as his dick is enveloped in the warm, wet heat of Ichigo’s mouth. The young man bobs his head between Kisuke’s legs, tucking his teeth behind his lips and swallowing down as much of Kisuke’s cock as he can. Ichigo hasn’t done this all that often, but what he lacks in experience he more than makes up for with enthusiasm (Kisuke is sure that by the end of this session or perhaps the next, Ichigo will have mastered the art of sucking cock. His superhuman learning curve applies to _all_ areas of life, it seems, a fact that Kisuke greatly enjoys). It takes all of his control not to fuck up into Ichigo’s mouth right then and there.

“Maybe I will, if you’re good for me,” Kisuke sighs appreciatively, running his fingers through Ichigo’s bright orange hair. He grasps lightly at the short, shaggy strands, reveling in the noise of approval that reverberates from his throat and around Kisuke’s cock. Ichigo pulls back, curling his fingers around the thick base, then goes to town with the dick in his mouth. He alternates between a gentle pressure and a vacuum with a hint of teeth grazing over the skin, using his tongue to toy with the foreskin, running the heated muscle up and down and around the length of his cock. It feels so deniably good and it makes Kisuke _burn_ inside. He makes almost no noise save for a few gasps and the tiny, tiny whimpers that rip out of him when Ichigo gives him a particularly hard suck, his cheeks hollowing out around the penis.

“Yes, that’s it, keep going,” he whispers, nails scratching against Ichigo’s scalp. He can feel the precipice approaching rapidly, feels his balls start to draw up against him, the elusive tail end of blissful release coming into his grasp—

Just before he can fall over the edge, Ichigo pops the cock out of his mouth and sits back, wiping the drool from his chin. Kisuke feels intensely bereft, and makes his opinion loudly known.

“Don’t want you getting off just yet,” Ichigo teases, fumbling for the jar of lube. “Gotta wait for the main event. I want you—no, _need_ you to come inside of me. I said I was yours, but I want you to _make_ me yours, mark me, claim me, so that everyone knows that I belong to you and only you.”

Kisuke tightly fists the sheets beneath his legs, knuckles turning white from the pressure. “Are you trying to entice me into having my way with you again, Kurosaki-san?” he asks mildly, voice only slightly strained. “Because if so, it is certainly working.”

Ichigo grins brightly and laughs, “I can’t let you have all the fun.” He slicks up Kisuke’s cock, briefly reaches behind himself to make sure he’s still loose and open from earlier, then crawls on to Kisuke’s lap and promptly sits on his dick, letting out a wrecked noise as his lover’s penis stretches him wide.

The blonde muffles a curse into the warm curve of Ichigo’s bare shoulder as his cock is enveloped in a tight, wet heat that’s far better than Ichigo’s mouth alone. Ichigo sinks down on him one inch at a time, until he’s fully seated on Kisuke’s lap, both knees straddling the bony curve of Kisuke’s hips. “I fear you’ll be the death of me, Kurosaki-san,” he exhales, mouthing idly at Ichigo’s neck, biting at the tan skin, leaving a pattern of bruises over the hollow of his throat and around his collarbones. If Ichigo wants him to mark him that badly, he will happily do so. Let people know he’s taken. Leave no room for doubt. When Ichigo looks in the mirror, he will see the marks decorating his body and will be reminded of who exactly he belongs to.

It is a thought that fills Kisuke with a perverse sense of satisfaction.

“I thought I told you—” Ichigo pants, bracing his hands against Kisuke’s stomach, lifting his hips so that only the tip of Kisuke’s cock remains inside of him, then sharply pushing back down and wringing a strangled moan out of his lover, “—to call me Ichigo.”

He repeats the movement, trying to find the right angle to have Kisuke hit that perfect spot inside of him again. Kisuke is prepared, though. He firmly thrusts upwards as Ichigo comes down, jabbing his dick straight into Ichigo’s prostate and making stars explode behind his eyes. Ichigo cries out loudly, throwing his head back in ecstasy, “Ah! Again, Kisuke, again!” The shopkeeper obeys, making the younger man choke on a whine as the pleasure of being filled with Kisuke’s cock burns through him.

They set a rough pace between them, Ichigo canting his hips and rolling down, Kisuke pushing forcefully upwards and hammering him with brutal strikes against his sweet spot that cause Ichigo to mewl out loud as waves of intense, overwhelming pleasure sweep through him. Their lips meet sloppily, teeth clacking, tongues dancing, pouring all their desperate desires into one another as they move in sync together. Their reiatsu rises with them, frenzied and needy, intertwining as their owners do around them. Ichigo claws at Kisuke’s back, leaving red scratches across his pale skin as Kisuke continues to bury himself to the hilt, deep within him. A stream of unintelligible words fall from Ichigo’s mouth as he breaks away to gasp for breath, some combination of _yes_ and _more_ and _harder, faster, please, Kisuke,_ **_please—_ **

It takes only a bare handful of minutes before their rhythm becomes erratic, both of them clinging tightly to each other as they hurtle towards the edge together.

“C-close,” Ichigo moans, clutching Kisuke's broad shoulders, barely having any strength left in his legs to shakily lift himself one more time. Kisuke holds him firmly by the hips and slams him down, punching all the air out of Ichigo’s lungs in a rush of noise as he wobbles just on the tip of the abyss.

“You are so good, so beautiful, so strong, so precious, so perfect, can you feel how tight you are around my cock? I’m the only one who can make you feel like this, my dick is the only one you want filling you up, my name is the only one I want to hear you scream when you come, _Ichigo—”_ Kisuke whispers into his lover’s ear, and that’s enough for Ichigo to finally unravel at the seams and fall apart.

He does so beautifully, magnificently, his voice a ragged mess as his second orgasm tears through him, his cum splattering messily between them as he howls, _“Kisuke!”_

Kisuke fucks him through the aftershocks, breathing harshly as Ichigo spasms around him. He keeps up the pace even as Ichigo comes down from his orgasmic high and begins to feel less pleasurable and more painful, until he slams home one last time and stills, his warm release flooding into Ichigo’s body and painting his insides with hot stripes of Kisuke’s seed. He sighs Ichigo’s name into sweat-soaked skin, Ichigo groaning weakly at the sensation. He wobbles forward and falls on to Kisuke’s chest, uncaring of the mess spread across their bodies. Kisuke’s softening cock easily slips free from his ass.

They lay there for a few moments, content to bask in their post-coital glow, Ichigo rubbing his nose and cheeks up against Kisuke’s shoulder. He lifts his head and leans up, catching Kisuke with a lazy kiss. They cuddle on the bed, exchanging small, tender kisses in the aftermath. Ichigo laughs as Kisuke pecks him all over his face, from the tip of his nose to his cheeks, to his forehead and the edges of his lips, the scratchiness of his stubble rasping over Ichigo’s skin.

“Good?” Kisuke hums.

“Good,” Ichigo agrees. He slowly sits up, grimacing at the drying cum on his torso and the feeling of it leaking out of his hole. “I need to take a shower.”

“We may as well go in together,” Kisuke says, sliding off the bed. “After all, I haven’t quite discovered everything about you yet,” he adds with a leer.

Ichigo rolls his eyes at him. “You mean it’s just an excuse for you to be a pervert,” he accuses without any heat, following the shopkeeper as he saunters down the hallway to the bathroom.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kurosaki-san. I am the paragon of virtue!”

“Kisuke, you are literally the least virtuous person I know. And didn’t I tell you to call me Ichigo?”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment before you go~


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